Recollections of a burning man
by mon.cheri.mer
Summary: People say when you are dying you see your whole life just before eyes. This was a lie. He had exactly 7 minutes and 30 seconds left and the only thing he could see were recollections of his only and best friend.


It hurt to breathe, it hurt to try and open eyes, it hurt to just lie and wait for death. It hurt just being and death was never more desirable than in this moment when feeling of his body melting was overwhelming and ceasing to exist in this world thrilling. Heart was slowly stopping to beat, even though it was beating so rapidly just a few seconds ago. But in this situation it was only to be expected, as seconds were in this world new hours which were longer than normal 60minutes ones.

He cracked only one eye open because the other was already melted and skin glued to skin preventing any movement, maybe even preventing him from seeing on this eye for the rest of his life.. _The rest which was exactly seven minutes and thirty..twenty nine..twenty eigh secons _if his calculations were correct and they always have been. He would laugh humourlessly but unfortunately smog already made its way to his lungs preventing him from breathing properly and laughing, even attempting to, would bring more pain and less time.

So then, silence. This was all that was left besides the pain. And surely it was more welcomed than this burning sensation that engulfed his body, his soul, his insides and didn't let go, _ would never let go_.

What he was seeing must be hell. Those merciless flames which brought down the whole building and him. How could he be such a fool not to think about backup way out of this? Oh yes, he did think about this. This was meant to be perfect way out. Unfortunately the bombs weren't synchronized enough. One second in those situations is like an hour and this one hour killed him. He knew it, he was dead by now. Even though he wanted to be alive so desperately, even though he loved feeling of the blood circulating, pumping in his veins, even though he never valued the life more than in this very second he was meant to die. Without fame, without engraving his name in people's minds, without beating freak albino-wanna-be, without Matt. He was meant for darkness, for oblivion, for hell. For all those sins he committed he would surely go to hell and he smiled bitterly. Hell. He lived in hell for so many years and this was what awaited him in eternity. Such alluring future.

Harsh cough wrenched his body and he rolled on the side, looking slightly dazed on small blood drops lying right under his face. Was that from outside or _inside_ his body?, he mused.

_Mello, Mello. How did it go, are you first?_

_Not yet. But soon._

There was no way back, no way to become first. This soon would never arrive. He promised Matt that the second he became first he would let it all go, he would leave this fucked up world and go somewhere to be just Mello, to just be himself but unfortunately this was no longer a way to go. He was going to die without fulfilling his dreams, his desires. He was going to leave his only friend alone, betrayed, mislead. He surely would be shattered. Because even if he was cold bitchy bastard, they were still friends, he still cared for redhead, he still hoped for him to have bright future. Future which was not tainted with Wammy's, with expectations, with robot-like bring-up.

Oh, he had to die. There were only six minutes left, he could tell by the way hot air burned his nostrils and mouth. He opened them and licked even though there was no more saliva on sandy tongue.

He cracked his eye open once again, not being aware it closed until that moment and took shaky breath as he saw what was in front of him; the whole building was crashing down, flames eating it alive and he could only lay still and wait for death. His sight laid on the gun and hot tears made their way from his eye, because he wanted, he WANTED SO BAD to use it, but he couldn't. Matt taught him he shouldn't kill himself because then God would throw him into darkness, always ablaze hole. And even though there was not much hope left he still didn't reach for this, because maybe, just maybe he would make it.. He would make it up there..

But who was he kidding, every time he was hurt it somehow contained fire so his painful eternity would contain fire.

How he dreaded it.

_He was being stubborn and didn't want to let this chance go away. He waited long- too long and that was it. He ushered Matt further and smiled wickedly seeing his lazy smile. That was his friend, he cheered. Why were they doing this, what for? Now he couldn't even remember, he just knew in the past it had some meaning, but now.. Now all was lost, only their friendship and entertainment still alive. He trailed his eyes the path of Matt's hands which took one cigarette and put it between his lips and the lighter, how he flicked the flame alive and inhaled deeply, the grey smoke slowly escaping from his parted lips and creating the halo around his head. He chuckled and motioned to him for help. Next second he was being lifted to slightly parted window and breaking in the office his mind already plotting how to crash this building. He extended his hand and pulled quickly getting the redhead inside to stand by his side, like always._

''_What's the point?''_

''_I already forgot.'' He nodded and he knew this was not only thing expressing understanding, but that redhead felt exactly the same way: he himself did not remember but couldn't care less._

From the beginning he hated the whole purpose of Wammy's House. What were they, some robots that didn't feel, didn't want to lead their lives normal way? Maybe this was something Near was good at, but not him, this was not the Mello way to do things. He hated that house, he hated all those orphans, he hated the rankings, he hated.. L.

"_Let's burn it, Matt."_

"_You're crazy." He said however took the lighter nonetheless, jerking his head to indicate Mello should find something what would burn easily. He laughed and opened the drawers throwing out all papers that Roger had neatly tucked in. He laughed maniacally, throwing in the erecting pile candles and oil which was used for oil-lamp, watching with wicked smile as Matt came closer and lit it. Lit it, killing all Wammy's orphans while leaving them all alive, looking how they lost their personalities as their memos were burned._

"_We will pay for it, Mello."_

"_Maybe, one day." He smirked and ruffled Matt's hair and then snapped the lacing of his goggles over his head. Matt hissed and shoved him lightly on the arm._

_Or maybe not as lightly as he thought he did, because Mello staggered and fell back.._

_Just then he knew. His death would be brought by flames._

"_Mello!'' And even though Matt grabbed him and yanked closer to his body it was already a little too late because Mello already paid, because flames burned skin on his back and left a mark. There was no way back.. For Mello, when flames were concerned, there was just no way back.._

He brought his weak hand to his chest and pressed it strongly, trying to force some air in his lungs, because it was becoming harder and harder to breathe. He was so weak, so pathetic, so tired.. He pressed harder and felt something roll between his fingers, small smile curling on his lips as he got the idea what it could be, what it must have been.

"_What are you doing Matt? Hey, don't just kneel here, talk to me. The fuck..? Matt!" Nothing happened, as Matt pressed his eyes closed and refused to pay attention to blonde. It lasted four next minutes, until finally redhead kissed something and raised his eyes on utterly pissed Mello._

"_Finished?"_

"_Yea."_

"_You're a dick. What were you doing?"_

"_Praying."_

"_Praying?"_

"_Yes, Mello. Praying to God. Have you ever done this?" As blonde shook his head a 'no'. Matt smiled with understanding and motioned for him to come closer. Mello slowly, somewhat hesitantly crawled closer and sat on his heels in front of redhead._

_Matt chuckled quietly and then put something around blonde's neck._

"_Eh? Rosary? Seriously Matt, rosary?"_

"_Yes Mello. Keep it. Every time you will be in trouble just clutch it. I will, if not with body then with my soul, be there for you and as well there will be God. God will take proper care of you." He then smiled softly and ruffled Mello's hair, the way Mello always ruffled his._

_Blonde did not shout. _

_After all, Matt was his friend._

Somebody carried him, clutching him in their arms protectively, in way that caused groan to rip from between his lips. He cracked one eye open and smiled, seeing red. So, this was it, wasn't it?

"Hey there." Even whisper hurt coming from his burned throat as he ironically let the God know that he came a few seconds late. Oh, so maybe Mello's calculations were wrong, because if he was right then he would be alive for next two minutes.

He tightened his hand on his chest, clutching his rosary.

"Mello, hold it. We're on our way to hospital."

"Matt?"

"Yes, you wanker, just.. just hold it, okay?"

He smiled.

So he wasn't going to die.

Not yet, at least.


End file.
